Page 65 of Baby Surprise for my Brother's Best Friend

“Because I don’t need a whip and collar,” I mutter into my cup.

“Hah, you’re already halfway there. You’ve got him housebroken and everything. Don’t worry babe, we’ll facetime later. My tips are of the visual kind.” She shoots me a wink.

I shake my head, trying not to smile.

Then she softens. “But seriously, you like him.”

I open my mouth to protest but nothing comes out.

Because she’s not wrong.

“It’s probably just the adrenaline,” I say quietly. “The danger. The proximity. We’re stuck in close quarters, sharing everything, going to social events.”

“Or maybe it’s the first time someone’s actually made you feel safe. And seen. And wanted for more than your job title.”

I stare into my cappuccino, heart thudding.

“I’ve seen that look before, Soph. And it’s not lust. It’s fear of falling.”

***

By the time I get back, it’s a little past ten. The apartment is dim and quiet, except for the soft flicker of the TV and the clink of ice against glass.

Alessio’s stretched across the couch, one arm tucked behind his head, the other holding a lowball of whiskey. His shirt is rumpled, collar loose, and his eyes are half-lidded from something that’s not just the drink.

I drop my bag by the door and kick off my heels. “You good?”

He hums. “Better now.”

I hesitate before settling beside him, leaving enough space between us to keep things safe… or pretend to.

But safe feels like a lie lately.

“Can I ask you something?” I have to do this before I lose my nerve.

He shifts, eyes narrowing slightly. “That sounds ominous.”

“I’m serious.”

“Uh-oh.” He sits up and flashes a grin, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do I need a lawyer?”

I nudge his knee with mine. “I’m being real.”

He groans, scrubs a hand through his hair. “Alright, hit me.”

“Why me?”

He stiffens.

“What?”

“You could have anyone,” I continue, heart pounding now. “So, why are you trying so hard with me?”

He laughs once, short, humorless. “Is this a trick question? Because if it is, I’m going to need a second whiskey.”

“Alessio.”

He sets the glass down, leans forward, elbows on his knees. His voice is quieter now.

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